On the Highway of Heroes

Canada has lost 77 young soldiers in Afghanistan since 2002. The majority of the deaths has been in the volatile southern area of Kandahar. At any given time we have about 2,500 soldiers operating in the area on six month rotations. All those who are there, are there voluntarily. They have volunteered not only to serve Canada but to serve in Afghanistan.

They are engaged in the business of nation building. Taking the struggle to the Taliban as they attempt to reclaim the power they lost in 2002. They are building infrastructure like roads, dams, schools, wells. They are training Afghans to be able to defend themselves when time for us to leave them on their own comes. They are teaching Afghans the principles of democracy while learning to respect the culture the Afghans hold dear.

Canada is proud of her military members, of their selflessness in volunteering to go where others fear to tread. When Canadians fall in those places, Canada mourns their loss. From the first chilling news that another Canadian has given his life in service to us we are aware of the profound loss for the families.

We watch our TVs as the solemn ramp ceremony takes place in Afghanistan. Our soldiers drawn up in salute to their fallen comrade, the mournful wail of the bagpipes as the casket is carried by his comrades, dressed in fatiques, often fighting to contain their emotions, solemnly onto the plane that will carry the remains back home.

Two to three days later, that plane will land in Canada at CFB Trenton in eastern Ontario. On the tarmac, dressed in dress uniforms, will be more comrades, his family, government dignitaries and the hearse. His remains will be born gently from the transport to the hearse, a process that will take about 30 minutes. Outside the fences of the base, the public will be watching, their hearts going out to the family out there on the tarmac.

At the conclusion of the ceremony, a motorcade escorted front and back by Ontario Provincial Police will form up for the 150km trip to Toronto along the Trans Canada highway known as the 401. Last fall, the stretch from Trenton to Toronto was renamed, the Highway of Heroes in tribute to the now 77 Canadians and their families who have travelled in motorcades along there.

The motorcade will travel through the streets of Trenton, which are lined with people honouring the latest fallen hero. Members of the Royal Canadian Legion will be outside the gates rendering a salute as the motorcade emerges.

Once the motorcade departs Trenton, the family will experience why the highway has been renamed. Every bridge between Trenton and Toronto will be lined with people, there will be firefighters, EMS workers, police, Legion members and everyday citizens on those bridges. Canadian flags will fly from every one of them, firetrucks and ambulances will have lights flashing to show support to the family and to thank our fallen hero.

I am one of those who are standing on the bridge.

I have experienced the motorcades passing me on the highway as I travelled in the opposite direction. The first time, it went by so fast I hardly knew what it was until afterwards. It was encountering the motorcade carrying the remains of four young Canadians that hit me hard as I travelled eastward. Those four hearses brought home the huge loss that each fallen Canadian is.

The experience from the bridge is different. I am part of a Legion presence on the bridge where I go. The public very kindly leaves the area directly above the lane the motorcade travels in open for the Legion party to fill.

The flag at the Branch has been at half staff since December 30th when Gunner Jonathan Dion lost his life. Three times since then we've been to the bridges in bitterly cold weather to salute a total of four fallen Canadians. I pray that on January 25th, which will mark ten days since the last death, we'll be able to raise the flag to full staff and keep it there.

Out of the bridge there is a din of noise as we gather. The traffic on the highway roars past below in both directions. Horns blare in recognition of those standing on the bridges, drivers wave as we wave back. The people around us are talking, greeting neighbours. The whole time, part of our attention is fixed on a spot almost a mile away, the spot where we will first see the flashing lights of the motorcade. Everyone keeps shifting around to try to keep warm as we stand in the cold winter wind.

The fire fighters on the other bridges radio ahead when the motorcade passes. Once word comes that it has passed the town just before us a quiet starts to descend across the bridge, eyes turn eastward, watching for that first glimpse of those lights. Once the lights are seen, word passes along the line, the quiet deepens.

Most of the time there is a break in the traffic just before the motorcade arrives. Even though traffic is still flowing eastward, for a few moments before the first police car passes under the bridge it is like everything has paused. By then the Legion members are at attention, the flags are flying in the wind, the others holding a salute that will remain until the last car passes under the bridge. None of us are feeling cold at that moment.

The lead car hits their siren, breaking the momentary silence. The cars in the motorcade flash lights, occupants wave as they pass under the bridge and the last car hits their siren. In but a few moments it is over. Little is said as people file off the bridge to their cars.

I think one of the most touching moments for me was last summer when we were on the bridge to salute six young Canadians killed on one day. As the motorcade passed, the window of one of the family limos came down and from inside the father of one of those young men gave us a thumbs up.

We Will Remember Them